Years ago I wrote a story about a Kalihi middle school teacher’s efforts to start up a cross- country team. When I’m asked to talk to students about journalism, I often use that story as an example, not because the reporting was challenging or because the topic was fresh or the writing particularly strong. It was an average story, the kind that most journalists in town have written a dozen times. But something about that story moved people in a wholly unexpected way, and I use that example to talk about how it’s sometimes impossible to know how a story will affect people.

The story was about teachers at Dole Middle School trying to find something their students could do after school that was active, inclusive and inexpensive. They decided that cross-country was perfect because it didn’t require a gym or a big practice field, it didn’t require expensive equipment and it could include any kid who wanted to join. The only thing they really needed was decent running shoes. The team was running around Kalihi in rubber slippers. Dole is across the street from Kamehameha IV public housing, and for many of the kids’ families, buying running shoes was out of the question. So the story concluded with a request from one of the teachers for donations of any gently used running shoes that might be gathering dust in people’s closets.

The response was overwhelming. Bags and bags of shoes were dropped off at the school office, more than enough to cover all the feet on campus. But that was just the beginning. People sent money. Lots of money. The school office had to consult a bank to start up an account for the team because it was too much money to keep on campus. Stores offered gift certificates. Nike Town, which still had the Waikiki store, said the entire team could come down, get measured and pick out shoes for free.

And I’ve never been sure why. It had something to do with the idea of kids not having good shoes, but running anyway. Something about that image is heartbreaking. It made people remember their own lean childhoods, ill-fitting shoes and the blistered feet that got in the way of youthful greatness.

Last week I interviewed a member of Local 5, a woman on strike from her job in housekeeping at a Waikiki hotel. She talked about how her family struggles to make ends meet and how, during the strike, things are tighter than ever. She told a story about her 16-year-old daughter wanting to play basketball for Farrington High School but said she couldn’t afford to buy her daughter new athletic shoes. It was just a small part of the overall story.

The thing that happened years ago at Dole happened again. So many people wanted to get that girl her shoes. There was a flood of emails and phone calls. Even people who said they didn’t support the strike wanted to help the kid. The mom was grateful but declined offers of help, saying that she isn’t the only one struggling.

So this isn’t a story about a kid needing shoes. This story is to offer proof of the kindness that lives, still, even in these angry, divisive times, and the way the human heart reaches out to a child — even an unnamed child — who just wants to get in the game but doesn’t have the right shoes.

Reach Lee Cataluna at 529-4315 or lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.